tuesday

you brought me your shoes
on a summer morning
dewy and cool

i followed you
in my sweats and no bra
while you ambled
carrying too many pebbles
they spill out of your hands
precious stones

we saw cars pass
and heard men working
other lives in other worlds
but oh said my mind
isn't this a holiday
some national vacation

no
this day is special
to nobody
but me

The Mind Killer

So remember how my doctor and I were really optimistic about those cells in my vajayjay? Wellllll, it might have been a bit worse than that. I mean, not WORSE worse. What's worse? It's much worse to have cancer now rather than get a high risk result and fer sure cancer in two years. It's way way worse to be dying and have to make a will and do all that adult stuff instead of just going to the doc and having them knock you out so they can scrape all the evil pre-tumor tissue right out of you. So yeah, that second one? I got that.

Well, I did. I had my operation already and thank god that's over. But of course when she told me I needed the LEEP I proceeded to FREAK THE FUCK OUT, stick my fingers in my ears like a nine year old, and generally ignore the situation until the very damn day of the operation. I imposed internet silence on myself because I just didn't want to worry about all the stupid complications and horror stories and “welp, now I have cancer anyways” scenarios that would inevitably pop up (believe me, I went WAY too far about research when I was pregnant and even do a bit too much now that I have my kid and now basically think every bad thing ever is going to happen).

I was able to venture a few questions. My MIL told me a story about when she was a nurse and a woman came in with her two kids and she had cervical cancer and died in, like, six months and she wasn't even thirty because cervical cancer is a young woman's disease and jesus I wish I didn't have that statistic in my head. The moral of that story is to get checked out on the regular because she hadn't. I get my paps on time, yo.

Truth, the LEEP was not THAT bad. I fell asleep without even knowing it, the last thing I remember was thinking the operation table they moved me to was not as comfy as the bedzzzzzz. However, waking up SUCKED SO HARD. I was in a lot of pain, a four on my scale, which is very high for me (I'm crying if I'm at a five, for ref). Also, shaking uncontrollably. Also I guess my blood pressure took a dip and scared the crap out of everybody so I had to get stabilized in a special quiet room where they wouldn't even give me a magazine or anything (they wanted me to rest, go fig).

Since then, things have been okay. Was told to do “pelvic rest” which means...don't do anything down there, we mean it now. Also gross clots coming out of me randomly ewewew and I still have some pretty bad crampy pain even though the surgery was a week ago. WTF. All this after I had my first period in 18 months (crash course in menstrual cups, FTW. Love you Diva Cup!) so its just been one bleedfest after another. Sometimes being a woman just blows. I don't think my husband has been to the doctor in like, years, and he's healthy as a horse.

Also, the days after were an emotional shitstorm. Songs that are not sad getting stuck in my head and then making me cry. Crying at comedies. Anxiety, and lots of it. I'm a stable person, my husband backs me up on that, so when stuff like this starts to happen, we take notice. It was like getting the baby blues all over again. When I mentioned it to my OB, she couldn't say it was anything specific but that since I am quite obviously “sensitive” to anesthesia, it probably had something to do with that. And my menses returning? I guess?

But all this is complaining. I don't have cancer. I probably won't get it now, if ever. For that, I am supremely grateful.

“I'm optimistic.” She said. I am too. I'd been waiting on this appointment for nearly a month after I got the call, but it'd barely registered on my brain as an important task, instead it was just another thing that I needed to check off my to-do list.

I wasn't ignoring the significance, not making myself purposely busy so that I didn't have to think of the implications. I am certain that at 28, I don't have to worry about cervical cancer. After just having a baby, still nursing, and having regular (ahem) alone time with my husband, an abnormal pap just isn't that abnormal in this situation.

I don't mind OB visits all that much even, usually. The doctors are quick, the discomfort fleeting, and then it's wham bam see you next year. But this wasn't a standard visit. This was a biopsy. I hadn't really thought about that till I was sitting in the exam room with just a sheet covering my lower half.

Anyone who's had one knows the deal. The exam was uneventful, except for the name of one of the instruments was “cervical punch” and it works exactly like a hole punch in exactly the place a hole punch should not be. The doc asked me if I felt lightheaded and I actually had to consider if I did. You would think after an emergency C-section and several months of trial-by-fire learning to be a new mom, I would not be fazed by this routine procedure.

At the end, they offered me a basket of the tiniest, thinnest pads I had ever seen. Pads for 12 year olds who weight 75 pounds. I had to line three up in my underwear before I felt moderately safe. Behind me, there was a bright streak of red on the previously spotless bed paper.

On the way home, I felt odd. I tried to sing to C to keep her entertained, but couldn't manage that. I felt exhausted by the time we got in and didn't know why. I was glad C was able to motor around the living room by herself before bed because I don't think I could've played with her otherwise.

That night, I curled up tight in my bed, trying to block out the fact that there was a tiny wound inside me and that's why my insides ached. It didn't matter how much I crossed my legs, the action was still there, it had already occurred, and why was I freaking out about this? It wasn't a big deal god dammit, just go to sleep like a normal person and get over it.

It didn't help that I would have liked some (ahem) alone time with my husband, and continued to want it but was terrified by the idea at the same time. Confusion, anger at myself, fear, anxiety. I didn't sleep well.

“You'll have some light but bright red bleeding for the rest of the day, just to warn you.”

“Of course.” My smile, practiced for years, showed my demeanor as easygoing and calm. “Just like any other fresh wound. Makes perfect sense.”

“Oh.” She sighed as she got up to leave, and shook my hand. “You're so rational.”

Spin spin spin

Some kind of new and improved super cold has swept through my household. Features include: extreme fatigue, nonstop dizziness, the inability to sleep, fever spikes at night, plus 33% more used tissues. Call now while supplies last.

The dizziness was a serious concern for me, as it got so bad that I didn't feel safe driving. I could barely focus. I think this is what was keeping me from sleeping, because when I closed my eyes, I could feel the world turning around me and it would cause my body to tense up. When I did sleep, I dreamed of swimming or falling.

C got it, of course. I had to use the Nosefrida on her, which is nicer than the bulb thing but she still screamed. At least she got to nurse after that.

So often during motherhood I feel like I am of two minds. One mind is the conscious one, the educated anxious one that tells me I need to turn the TV off so that C's brain doesn't rot out of her eyes whether she's actually looking at the screen or not (she's not). The other is the quiet whispering brain, silently guiding my actions with the steady hands of generations of mothers before me. So often, I discover that I am the one who is holding C back, second guessing myself. "She's too young for that" I'll say. But the next week, despite my louder brain's protestations, I move my three month old to her big crib with barely a blip. Next she's trained out of needing her swing for naps. Then she's eating tuna (!) at just seven months. It's maddening. What would have given me a heart attack a few weeks before seems like no big thing today.

This all comes on the heels of my worry that C is going to wean soon. Sooner than I would like anyway. I really love breastfeeding her, but her excitement about solid food is unmatched. She still eats the baby stuff, but practically demands a small bit of whatever you are eating, be it turkey or bread or spicy chicken or pickles. A month ago I was getting weepy reading about "The Last Time They Breastfeed" stories. Now I sense it on the horizon, and while it will make me a bit sad, I don't think I will cry a single tear.

Growing up, moving on. I wouldn't, shouldn't and downright can't keep her a baby forever. Just the other day I noticed that I really don't need the diaper back with me all the time like I used to. It's an oversized purse right now. And I still have the co sleeper next to the bed, but only to hold things like towels for side lying feeding and a+a blankets that have become C's comfort objects (the sleeper also makes a convenient guard rail, C would have fallen off the bedside multiple times by now by distractedly popping off and rolling over if it wasn't right there)

And then there is perspective. As in, keeping it. It's hard to stay strong about something without second guessing yourself because your LO is crying or giving you the puppy face or just seems so darned persistent. Are you sure you don't want to give in? Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it, or I feel guilty for not. And then I have to tell myself, "You're not starving, hitting, or otherwise abusing her. She gets everything she needs and most of her wants. You don't have to cave for this." Shit's hard man. Shit's hard.

We (could) have (had) it all

There's been a lot said about public nursing moms lately. There's been the Target nurse in, Kasey Kahne, and don't even get me started on this judge (Inappropriate? You can take your inappropriate and stick it up your inappropriate).

I am a vehement supporter of breastfeeding, whenever, wherever it is required. Most states have specific laws that allow women to do just that. I am so SO grateful that I live in a state that is very clear that a woman is 100% allowed to breastfeed in ANY location, public or private. It is illegal to move, berate, or otherwise harass said mother. I hope that someday we can live in a country where no one, not even dickhead NASCAR drivers, bat an eye at a breastfeeding mother.

And yet. Have I done my part to raise awareness and encourage NIP? The more often that babies eat in full view, the less taboo it becomes. I know this, I believe in it...and I've never actually done it.

It used to be that I wasn't perfectly comfortable with BFing yet. We didn't have the rockiest start, but it wasn't the smoothest either. At first, it was because I was using nipple shields and I still (still!) am. I didn't think I could figure out the logistics of feeding a baby and having the shield and doing it without having to trek the boppy around. But now I could probably swing it if I had to. I just...haven't. The one place I did that was semi-public was the pediatrician's office, tucked away in a comfy rocking chair, next to the bathroom.

Even then, I eyed the bathroom, wondering if I should just go in there and then mentally kicking myself for having such backward wrong headed thinking. But since then, nothing in public. And I don't know if it's because I don't particularly like confrontation, or if I am actually ashamed of the idea of exposing myself.

I feel like I can't afford to be embarrassed, that I have to advocate for breastfeeding and that actions speak louder than words here. I know that all of the responsibility doesn't rest on my shoulders, but If I Don't Who Will and "be the change you want to see in the world" blah blah blah. GUILT. Also FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS. It doesn't help that I'm also a total homebody who prefers her house to any mall/theatre/strip club.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I think I'm going to have to get outside my comfort zone on this, maybe even force the issue by going somewhere far enough away that I have no choice but to nurse. I actually ended up writing a lot more about the subject than I expected.

NEW TOPIC. I am always eleven billion years late to the party and I am also a snob about everything so sometimes stuff takes a while to matriculate through my skull but I just got around to listening to some of Adele's stuff and it's pretty damn good. Especially her hit, Rolling in the Deep. I like it because it's sultry, angry, passionate, soulful. And then there's the refrain, "We could have had it all." That really made me think, what is the "all" she could have had? Love? Marriage? Kids? A good life? And I realized that's what I've got. I've got it all. I'm in paradise and loving every second of it.

Easy

I always knew I wanted children, and I always knew, academically, that it would be hard. Of course, knowing something will be hard and then actually going through said thing is very different. But the hardest thing? It's watching her get bigger every day. I swear every time I look at her she's just a bit taller, a bit more filled out, etc. Every day she's more and more active during her waking times. I can already tell she's going to be a handful when she starts crawling, walking. I can't picture her speaking yet, with her mouth. She talks to me every day, in squeaks and wails, happy or sad moans, distinctive leg kicking. Big toothless smiles. Out of breath belly laughs.

C. is less than 6 months, but we have set our routine. It starts when she wakes up, then two hours later (or less), it's nap time for two hours. She's up again for 2-3 more hours, then back down for another two hour nap. Bedtime starts at 6:30 and can really begin anywhere from 7-7:45, with wakings around midnight and then, depending on how she feels, there can be a couple more feedings in there.

Speaking of sleeping, we are all getting a lot more of it than we used to. We ended up having to do a gentle "fuss it out" because one night we were just so exhausted, it was getting really unsafe. After ten minutes, she was out. And she stayed out. And it's been like that pretty much every night since. To say it is lovely is an understatement, but sometimes (often...) I find myself missing our late night meetings (even though most of the time, they still happen).

Missing things. That is the hardest part. Taking pictures has dropped off, of course. I get so caught up in the routine, the morays of day to day life, that it isn't until she's asleep and peaceful that my brain turns on to remember to guilt me about forgetting to take pictures. Every day I say to myself, I will take more pictures tomorrow. I will make it a priority. I will take more pictures.

I have to remind myself that these are the easy times, the times when I can instantly cure any crying spell with a boob or an arm to pick her up, or a bounce on my knee. Someday things will get harder, so much harder and easier. It feels like that day is far away, but the reality is everything is going by at warp 9 and I'm the one who's standing still. That is, until I hold her tiny hand in mine and my hand looks so old and wrinkled and malformed compared to hers. I'm going at warp speed too, I just don't feel it.

Tomorrow I will take more pictures.

Tanks and routines

I dunno about other mothers, but ever since I left the hospital I've had to wear a nursing bra 24/7. Lemme let you in on a secret. Bras? Can get very uncomfortable if you wear them too long. And before baby, I was the kind of person to just take mine off as soon as I got home from work. It was like a signal for my body to get into relax-at-home mode and out of work mode. "You should get a fitting!" I can hear the ladies crying. Relax, I've had one and I know my size, etc. But no matter how comfy the bra is when you first buy it, it's going to start to sag and pull and just show its wear and tear. And it's going to get uncomfortable if you wear one for an extended period of time. I know there are women who wear them because they are more comfortable than without, but as a "well endowed" girl, I can say that it is much MUCH nicer to just let it all hang out, so to speak.

Anyway, I picked up a nursing tank (why is it called a tank? Am I in the army?) and it is SO MUCH BETTER. It feels like a shirt instead of a bra, and is just so comfy. I LOVE IT.

NEXT UP: Okay, can we talk about sleep schedules? Routines? Because yeah, I don't understand them, I think. When I complain that it's always up in the air when C. goes to bed, they say put her on a schedule! Start a routine! I'm like, Okay! How do I do that?

Seriously, this doesn't make sense. We tried it and it was FAIL. Nurse, rocking, singing, bed. As soon as she hit the mattress she was like, WTF. Since we aren't doing cry it out or anything, what was the next move? I ended up doing what we always do, nurse her to sleep and then move her to the crib. She usually wakes up a bit when we do this and knows she's going in the crib (opens her eyes, struggles for 0.2 seconds).

Anyway, it wasn't until later that I had a mini epiphany. Nursing her to sleep is part of her routine, but the END of the routine. I need to build from that and create a routine that signals to her that sleep is going to happen soon, but it will still end with nursing to sleep, then crib. I know, it sounds super easy and something everyone already knows, but when people say "routine routine routine" they don't really elaborate on HOW a routine is created, and that you need to incorporate what has worked for your child in the past and you can totally use what you've been doing to get your kid to sleep up to that point. I feel like sometimes advice like this is touted so often that people forget that first time parents are in completely foreign territory and don't have a frame of reference to draw from and so, like us, will just FAIL and feel like shitty parents because their kid doesn't sleep when they need her to.

In other news, C. pooped so hard that I had to strip her out of her clothes and hose her down in the sink. AGAIN.

WELP, THE REST OF MY WEEK IS SHOT

Stupid internet. Guess who's never heard the lyrics to "Turn Around" before? Yeah.

My kid is nearly five months, but already I'm feeling this way about her growth. Every time I look up from whatever I'm doing, it seems like she's suddenly so much bigger. I was actually going to write a post about it called "Turn Around" because that's so close to what it feels like. GUESS I'M NOT THE FIRST PERSON TO FEEL THIS WAY.

You know how people always talk about living "in the moment" and I'm all, yeah, sure I will, but I have to like, make plans and grocery lists for tomorrow and stuff. So I've never really had the idea of living in the moment explained to me.

Yesterday I watched a Nature episode called "My Life as a Turkey" and the guy was talking about the beauty and stillness of the wild turkey (I know...) and how they didn't betray the moment by worrying about the future, which will by definition never come, so therefore the present is the best they've got. This comes close to my heart because I always feel that everything is passing by so quickly and I'm trying to catch it and relish the NOW but it just slips by before I can blink. And it suuuuuuucks. This was brought into perfect clarity right after my c-section, when I discovered that my previous feelings that I was a laid back, non-anxious person were proven completely wrong. It's almost as if post pregnancy hormones just bring any little hangup you used to ignore right to the surface of your personality, until you are bursting into sobs just watching your slumbering baby get her hearing test.

BTW Thanksgiving was yesterday! It was great fun, but prepping for that big meal is completely different when you know you have the ticking time bomb of a screaming baby in your near vicinity. However, I got not one, but TWO turkey carcasses out of it to make turkey stock later. Oh man oh man food boner you guys. SO EXCITE.

Non-Liquid Diet

GUESS WHAT I BOUGHT

Went to the pediatrician on Thursday. They'd screwed up my appointment as usual, so I was "late." Not sure how I can screw up inputing the appointment on my calendar when I do it RIGHT THERE IN RECEPTION. They'd also thought I had another appt next week. Um, no, also why? But I forgive them, because our pedi is also awesome and great and his nurses love love love C.

Anyway, he mentioned that we should start solids soon. Like, in a month. I'd been dreading this because seriously? C. is just five weeks old or something, she needs mommy's milk and THAT'S IT. In no way is she growing up or getting bigger or...wait she's nearly 5 months isn't she. Dear god.

My little itty bitty baby is going to start eating real food soon. How can this be? The delivery is still so fresh in my mind, I feel like I could go right back there. Can that really have been almost half a year ago?

Well, after sort of getting used to the idea (last week my brain was all NO NO NO) I'm kinda sorta looking forward to it. After all, figuring this stuff out is kinda fun. Should I make my own baby food? What about organic food? What about baby-led eating? I want to expose her to many palates and foods (OMG WHAT ABOUT CHOKING NO SOLIDS EVER OMG). Yeah, a bit bi-polar on this issue.

The other thing is she hasn't really shown ANY interest. Sure, she puts stuff in her mouth, but she's constantly teething right now with two little bumps in the center of her bottom gums ready for eruption. Sometimes she'll watch me eat/drink something with a weird fascination on her face. I've heard that in the first months, "feeding" them is more like "seeing what ends up down her throat, and cleaning up her face after." I sill have to find out basics like how much to feed at first, when to start feeding stuff that isn't mixed with milk, what about nuts and other allergens, etc. Sigh.

Also, not looking forward to different and more disgusting poops. Not. At. All.

First World Awesomness

Hoo! *blows dust everywhere* Man, this thing hasn't been used in a while.

Wow, depressing last post. Everyone* must have thought I up and killed myself after my mom's cat died. Nope! I procreated instead. About four months ago. Yeah.

So I guess this is going to be a mommy blog now or something. I mean, not every post would be about my amazing snowflake baby but a bunch of them will. Say around 78% baby related stuff. Probably some other crap thrown in about my own thoughts or what happened on the last Buffy episode I watched (thx netflix).

My baby's name is [REDACTED]. Oh right, there likely will be no pictures and no names since I would like to keep her online footprint to a minimum until she can control it herself. Until she can expressly give me permission to post her info, say around 13 (hey, its good enough for Facebook) there will be very little.

Okay, enough about babies. Lets talk about the little things. You know, the things that make life easier and you can't really imagine it without them. For a FTM, there are but a few. Target. Amazon Prime. BJ's. Grandparents that live in the same town as you (both sets, haha, I got it made). Aden+Anais blankets. A husband who knows how to drive the oven.

And now, this.


Dude, it is a PUMP for your SHAMPOO. No longer do I need to laborously reach up to grasp my Suave. No more to squeeze out some variable amount of soap for my head (too much, takes forever to come out. Too little and you are stuck with oily patches in the back). What's that? The crack of the bottle cap as it snaps off because I banged it into the shower tile by accident? NEVER AGAIN.

You guys have no idea what kind of amazing this is. Did you ever want to ring those desk bells when you were a kid but never got to because who even needs those anymore, seriously? And if you do use it, YOU look like the jackass even though the guy behind the desk was AWOL? Pumping out your shampoo is like finally getting to ring that damn bell, only you get to do it every morning and you get the exact same amount of shampoo every time (and you can pump it again if you need more, wow!)

Why yes, I am a cheap date. I assure you I was this way before I had children as well, just ask my sister. And yes, I DO get to shower every morning because I have a husband who understands that daily cleaning of my body is not negotiable. That and I really really want to play with the pump action shampoo.

*No one reads this blog, what the hell

A Gentleman's Personal Cat

My mom is an empty nester. My moving to college came as quite a shock to her, and even though my sister was still finishing high school at the time and thus living at home, she made the decision to adopt some new members into our until recently petless home.

There were a few false starts. There was a dog with a penchant for biting, and a cat who didn't know how to use litter (and was never going to learn). But it didn't take long for my mom to find a breeder who was practically giving away two Siamese kittens. I came home from school for Thanksgiving and Molly put one in my arms. I think my brain shut down from cuteness.

We named them Bertie and Jeeves, from P.G. Wodehouse's short stories of a 20's fop and his valet. Bertie was clearly the more delicate of the two, being slight and preferring to cross his paws just so and faff about in boas. Jeeves was physically larger, more stern and reserved. He would have a look about him of scrutiny and judgment, but in reality he purred and frolicked in sunbeams just like every other cat.

Everything they did was about love. They both loved food, and their dinner call became the "We are Siamese" song from Lady and the Tramp (it had to be, otherwise we'd just be singing that song all day). They loved getting pets and would prostrate themselves in front of complete strangers, demanding them. They were never far away from either of my parents, Jeeves had especially taken to my father, and was always trying to snuggle up against him, no matter if he was in the middle of something or not. They loved chicken and Jeeves would put out a paw, almost as if he were going to snatch some right out of my mother's hand as she made it for dinner. They were brothers, and so loved each other.

Their lives were happy and calm, playing and napping together in the sun, living what must have been a state close to bliss. So it was a severe shock to all of us when Jeeves passed away in the early hours on Monday, of extensive intestinal cancer. He was seven.

When my mother called to tell me this heartbreaking news, she told me that they had had to put Jeeves "to sleep" that morning. I know this is the normal terminology, and I know exactly what the euphemism means, but my first wild thought was "well, go wake him up!"

Of course, after a while, it started to sink in. It was hard realizing that I hadn't gotten to say goodbye to one of my first cat friends. He had basically been sick for a total of three days, which was a blessing and honestly, the way I would rather go. But I never once imagined that he would be gone by the time I was able to get back to my parents home. It is only now that I truly realize that he won't be coming back. I can't even remember the very last time I saw him and I think that's what hurts the most.

I found this picture of him I took with my phone a while ago. It's him and his favorite pastime, cuddles with my mother.


Love you, Jeevie.

I'm the Witch!

What is the difference between being good and being nice?

When I was a kid, there was this really good musical I liked called "Into The Woods." It was a wonderful fairy-tale-with-a-twist story, with Bernadette Peters playing the Witch. Great stuff. And, as it is with so many things, when I got older, the story began to mean different things to me. Being little and not world wise, I just liked the singing. Now, each song has an important moral, be it about the pains of growing up, or realizing that you can't always tell right from wrong.

There's one song that the Witch sings, called "Last Midnight" that always stuck in my mind. You see, in the story a giant is threatening a whole villiage unless they give up this one boy to them. No one want to do that and they all begin to blame each other for starting the mess in the first place. The Witch cuts in, basically saying that they know the right thing to do is to give up the boy to save everybody, but everyone is too spineless to do it. Her words: You're not good/You're not bad/You're just nice/I'm not good/I'm not nice/I'm just right/

It sucks having to do the right thing sometimes, although in this story they were able to get around it, but the Witche's words really rang true for me. Being a nice person isn't the same as being a good one. A nice person is someone you can't always trust, who takes the easiest road that pleases the most people. A good one always tries to do the right thing, even when it's difficult.

A guy down the street from me a couple days ago asked if one of us could drive him somewhere before we went to work. We didn't know this guy particularly well, certainly not well enough to take him somewhere alone in one of our cars. The answer was always going to be "no" but what bothered me was how the "no" was said.

I told him we all got up pretty early (around 5:30) which was too early for him. This was a lie, we don't get up that early, but pretty early for most people. And we would have had to get up even earlier to take him. It would have been quite inconvienent and a hassle and not I, nor anyone else within earshot, wanted to do it. I like my pattern, getting into work on time and leaving at a set time, and if I have to mess that up, there had better be a good reason.

Why didn't I just tell him that? Why lie? That was the "nice" thing to do. But really, it was the worse thing because he knew we were lying (he'd seen us leave at later times) and it was really an offense to both our intellects that I thought he would believe it.

As I went to bed, I continued to talk to this man in my head. "We would have had to get up real early to take you, and then you'd have to wait for the place to open, I don't want some stranger in my car." I was annoyed with this man for messing up my night with these guilts and self-doubts, but really I was annoyed with myself for being nice and not the (hopefully) good person I try to be.

The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

I knew there was something going on in my household.

It all started so innocently. Scott was texting a friend out in AZ, and I asked what he was typing so much about (it sounded like paragraph after paragraph from the clicks). He gave me a wry smile and a "none of your business" response. I was not going to take that kind of talk lying down (though we were in bed at the time, so I guess I did kinda). He elaborated only that it was "about me" and that it was "all good." I was perturbed, but at least it didn't sound BAD.

The next hint was a week or so later, when Scott's mother took us upstairs to look at her mother's jewelry. Into his hands she pushed several diamond laden rings and necklaces, giving him knowing looks and smiling alot (though she smiles alot anyway, so maybe that didn't mean anything).

At this point, I knew Something Was Up.

"Okay." I thought. "He's gearing up to give me some kind of fancy jewelry for Christmas." Nevermind that I don't wear alot of jewelry and never really expressed any interest in the stuff, but whatever. It's the thought that counts right?

But it could be for something else...something more permanent. My mind started racing in circles like a little rat wheel. Is he going to go for it? After all this time, is this it? Around and around, for days I thought, living in anticipation of the moment he might spring.

For me, being in control of everything in my life is not a huge deal. I'm easy, mostly able to go with the flow. Is everyone happy and comfortable? Then so am I. However, I do make a point to be "in the know" when it comes to what's going to happen in the near future. Are we going to a new movie this weekend? I want to be informed. Are we throwing a surprise party for a friend? Please don't tell me this a day before the event. Being able to plan and maximize everyone's enjoyment is something I really like, nay, need.

So after a couple of days, the suspense was figuratively killing me. What is he going to do? When is this thing happening? Where? I wanted to look nice, to know what to say, how to say it. But you can't plan something that's supposed to be a surprise to YOU. So I stewed.

There was one thing I wanted, and that was for it to not be a big deal. In fact, if it could be just us, that would be perfect. None of this flashy "you're on the jumbo-tron!" crap. And every time I thought about it, one place came to mind.

The Assabet NWR, a beautiful piece of conserved land. Back during WWII, it was owned by Fort Devens and used to store ammunition. Because of this, the land not only has sprawling marshes teeming with wild life, but also massive bunkers built into the landscape. The bunkers are huge, but they are so overgrown with moss, grass, and trees that you could walk within 10 feet of one and not know it. There's other evidence of human activity spotted around, and even though we've crossed the property several times, we always find something new.

I love this place. And I feel close to Scott when we're there. The best parts of him come out. His patience, his love of nature, his stillness. The place is quiet and few come there, especially during this time of year.

So I started suggesting that we go, that we see what the changing of the seasons and recent rain activity had uncovered, that I loved going there with him. So he said we'll go on Saturday.

I wasn't expecting anything to happen. I thought it was a nice place to be with him, just us. And I thought maybe, in the future, he would remember it was that way and take me back there. So I dressed as I always would, in a dumpy sweatshirt and crap-pants in case I fell in some mud (as I was wont to do).

It was morning and the place was cool, and we walked the trail down to the marsh area. It was partly flooded and we had to step gingerly around the new little rivers that were forming. There were hawks and ducks and mergansers and geese in the marshes. We walked while they fussed quietly and the day heated up. Eventually we began walking between the paths, stepping in areas that had not felt human feet for months. After a while, we came upon a new bunker, almost missing its dark and silent frame. It had no number, and the most interesting thing was the tree next to it that had absorbed a bittersweet vine, making the trunk look like a corkscrew. Pushing on, we came to a different smaller trail, and an official notice saying certain parts of the conserve were closed to hikers while they constructed a new visitors center. No problem, we weren't really near those areas, but it was Scott who spotted something strange in the trees beyond.

At first I thought it was some discarded bit of construction equipment, but a closer look showed it to be the scaffolding for some tower, only incomplete and fallen over from rot at its base. Despite the obvious age, it was still bright red like it had been painted yesterday.

“It’s probably something they forgot to clean up from when this was a base.” Scott said, switching out his far sighted lens for the short one.

“That is so cool.” I love seeing old structures overgrown by nature, thus my fascination with the bunkers. Scott snapped a few pics while I inspected the remains. The metal on the legs connecting it to the ground was rusted completely over and cracking. It was short, only 5 feet or so, and looked like there was more at one point, but it had decomposed. It was amazing to see, to wonder who had built it and why, fifty odd years ago, they never came back for it.

I stepped back next to him, smiling, happy with our find. Happy in this quiet place, bare branches above our heads, brown leaves below under our feet.

His hand moved fast. Before I could comprehend it, there was a white box open in front of me, and a diamond ring glinting in the soft light. I couldn't believe it, everything that I had thought about and had been building inside me for so long, my mind shut down from the shock of staring at it. But I was looking at him when he asked me.

There were a few seconds where I was having trouble understanding his words. Agonizing for him, but my brain needed to hard reboot. Finally I took the box and croaked out “With all my heart.” I then burst into tears.

I'm ecstatic. My journey with him has been such a fairy-tale, from being highschool sweethearts to finding each other again at the end of college. But rather than seeing this as my Happily-Ever-After, I'd rather it be my "Once upon a time..."

The Last Straw and the Nail that Sticks Up

My boss gave me some good advice the other day. She told me to write down as much as I can remember from Japan through the next few days as stuff comes to me, or I might forget it. It's true there is much that I'm remembering only just now, and I'm sure little flashes of things will come to me with time, reminding me of a specific event or memory, especially as I rifle through all our pamphlets and receipts.

So above, I would like to introduce you to Straw-san! Almost from the moment I entered the country, Straw-san was my constant companion. Remember how I mentioned on our first night, we went to Family Mart, the convenience store inside the hotel? Well, I bought a small carton of coffee-milk while there. I didn't drink it that night, but the next morning as we hustled to the shuttle to the station, I popped it in my purse. On the bus, I was drinking delicious sweet coffee beverage, but I'm an adult, so I never used the straw. It had, in fact, fallen off the carton and into the depths of my purse.

Suddenly Straw-san was everywhere. Every time I took out my camera, or the map, or the english/japanese dictionary, he would be stuck to it! The refrain was always "Haha, do you need a straw for that?" But as silly as it was, I couldn't bring myself to throw Straw-san away. He seemed so eager to help. Eventually his little piece of glue came off, so he stopped sticking to everything, but I made sure he stayed in my purse no matter what. And when I cleaned out my purse at my house back in America, he was there too. Who would think such a little straw would make such an incredible journey?

Another thing that I remember about Japan was Kyoto tower. The tower is basically a Seattle type space needle looking thing, only not nearly as tall. It's right next to Kyoto station and was a reference point for us whenever we got lost. There are a bunch of business places inside, mostly for tourists, but we saw a lot of people there, including a bunch of school kids.

The thing about schools in Japan is they go a long way to make every child look the same. Uniforms are strictly enforced, with children not even allowed to use different types of socks (even if they are the same colour). Conformity is held in the highest regard on all levels. So when I saw a girl in a crowd of highschoolers who was obviously half Caucasian half Japanese, I was taken aback.

I am ashamed to say I stared at her, because it was something so rare and unique that I couldn't look away. Massive crowds of asian faces with only slight variants, laughing and jabbering, and she stood in the middle of it, quiet in the tumult. She looked adorable in her uniform, but as soon as she saw me, we locked eyes. I don't know what mine said, but I know what hers did. "Go away, I'm trying to fit in. Leave me alone."

I could tell that school life for her must be hard. She wasn't talking to anyone around her, and didn't have a phone in hand like half the students there. She was probably being excluded from certain social groups and functions, likely only had a couple of friends. I wished she could know how much she and I had in common, and not just because she too, was an accidental gaijin in Japan.

Ja Matte, Japan

Yesterday was our last day in Japan. It was a dismal rainy day with no sun whatsoever. Our plans were mixed but our general direction was toward the Nara National Museum and the deer park where it was situated.

The museum wasn't open yet, so we decided to feed the deer. There are about 1200 deer in Nara Park and they are sacred. Hundreds of years ago, the people believed the deer to be forest spirits and were therefore never hunted. In fact, the deer were actively fed and cared for by the locals. Because they are sacred animals, the Japanese bow to them before giving them a cracker (sold by fender in the park for an inflated price, of course). The deer learned this behavior and have started bowing back, knowing they will get treats if they do. Because of this it has become quite the tourist destination

I have wanted to see the deer for a long time, ever since I found videos online of them bowing and following people. I expected them to be cute and persistent like goats on farms or something. When we got to the park, there were several deer sitting around and we fed them carrots. Down the path a bit was a vendor, and a bunch of kids going to school. They were messing with a group of younger deer, feeding them crackers and petting them. The deer seemed a little more aggressive than I was expecting. I bowed to them and handed them crackers, which they ripped from my hand. We started moving away from the group but one of the deer bit me in the butt! Luckily I was wearing jeans so it didn't hurt me as much, but Bobbie got bit in the side of the stomach. No blood, but a definite bruise. The kids didn't seem fazed (I actually think they were laughing at us) so we threw the rest of the crackers at the deer and left quickly. All in all, not a very positive experience, re-enforcing my belief that Nara is a tourist trap.

The museum was nice, but nothing special. It was small and we couldn't take many pictures. However, while in the Buddah section, Bobbie discovered the statue she wanted to get for her grandmother's grave.

I'd suggested the idea a day ago, that a statue from Japan for Gram's grave would be a nice touch for the end of the trip. At the museum, we encountered the Amida Buddah, or the St. Peter of the Buddist pantheon. Bobbie thought it would be perfect for the gravesite.

It became a quest. We scoured parts of Nara, but no one seemed to understand what we wanted. We needed a statue of the Amida Buddah and we needed it to be stone or bronze so that it wouldn't disintegrate in the rain and weather. Everyone seemed at a loss, and the moment we mention “ohaka” (grave) we were shut out. The Japanese do not like talking about death or graves or anything like that. Heck, finding a cemetery to take a picture of was a near impossible task as they are completely hidden from public view.

Finally we looked at one another and said, “Kyoto.” Kyoto where the people understood us, or at least seemed to have some empathy and not treat us like stupid foreigners. On the train we went, 45 minutes back to the part of Japan that actually felt like Japan to me.

It took several shops, but everyone made a serious attempt to help us and then recommend another shop down the street that may be able to help us. Finally we stopped in a little shrine shop in front of a temple where a young woman welcomed us in. We explained our plight as best we could, as most of the Buddah statues were gold plated and meant for inside use. After much hand wringing and dictionary lookups, the woman explained that there were probably no stone/bronze Amida Buddahs that Bobbie could take home. But, you could get a small nice looking plastic shrine that would protect the Buddah statue inside (we are talking about something that is only about 6 inches tall). After thinking about it, we decided this was the best and most viable option. But it was still a question if they would even sell it us since the Japanese are very particular about their religious objects and it seemed sacrilegious to them to put it outside.

I explained to them as best I could that this was not for us, it was for Bobbie's “obaasan” (grandmother) for her grave. And it was as if I had said “open sesame.” The woman suddenly started nodding her head in understanding, writing down the price and then saying “but we will give you discount.” And it wasn't just some off the cuff way of making a sale, it was a connection. Quickly, her and another man who we think owned the store, packed the Buddah an the shrine with utmost care, including special wrapping for each item and wrapping the bag in plastic wrap because it was raining outside, then including specific bag holders that were more sturdy than the ones on the bag already. This wrapping process took about 15 minutes and when we finally gave them their money, the manager said, “special discount” and gave back all the coins we had also put down, basically knocking off another five bucks.

By this time Bobbie and I were unbelievably moved by what was happening. We bowed extra for our appreciation, and Bobbie hugged the lady who made the whole thing happen. I left the store with a renewed sense that Kyoto had been the correct city for us to choose to visit, as the heart of Japan was truly beating here.

Back in the hotel we sadly packed our things for the next day's trip. It would be a long stressful ride, as the typhoon heading into the country would shut down the trains and delay all flights the next day, though we didn't realize this until we left. Today we return to a country of English, but we both already miss the culture of convenience and efficiency, of service that goes the extra mile, of beer in the vending machines. And even though it wasn't exactly what I'd imagined it to be all these years, that was because I was thinking too small. There is so much more to this country than I realized, and there is more yet to be discovered. I shall return.

Uninvited Guests

I woke up around six like usual and I wanted to skype family and friends. The room was pretty full though, and most everyone was still asleep so I tiptoed out to the hall where our shoes were, intending to leave the room to call. As soon as I neared the shoe area, I saw something skitter out. I looked closer, then recoiled. Cockroach!

A flurry of packing and apologies, we made our way to Nara. We had a friend we were going to meet there anyway, in addition to the sacred deer I wanted to experience. Within an hour we were in a hotel, one nice enough they can pay the roaches to stay out.

The best thing about the hotel is there is a TV. I don't really like a lot of Japanese television because it's mostly reality shows, but my favorite parts are actually the commercials.

It's amazing what commercials say about a people. They are designed to have a laser like focus on their target audience, so what you see is exactly what the Japanese are interested in. A good example is a commercial for candy. In America, a candy commercial would have 1) kids 2)be on during the day when kids are home and 3) be a cartoon or have some kind of furry mascot. The only thing the Japanese commercial for candy had in common was the furry mascot. Otherwise it was an adult woman (acting like a little girl) eating the candy and saying things like “sugoi!” (cool!). Also it was on during prime time. So what did I learn about the Japanese? They like candy, even grownups!

Anyway, it's just another way for me to observe these people in their natural state. I feel like I could watch Japanese commercials for a long time, and maybe learn a lot of the language from it. However, I would probably end up with affected speech like the Japanese brothers who learned how to speak english from Howard Cossell's racing announcements in Better Off Dead (if you haven't seen that movie, you need to see it.)

About the city. Nara is...different. The strange thing is I can't really put my finger on why. It's got the same cars and buildings. But the people seem more closed. In Kyoto, I felt like a gaijin, but that the people were okay with that and I never felt like I couldn't go somewhere because of it. In Nara, we were told that as foreigners we would not be welcome in some places. I figured this is always the case no matter what country you go to (or even within your own country sometimes) but I'd never had this actually spoken to me.

We started walking up the street from the hotel, and it was immediately obvious that it was a place for tourists. There were many shops and restaurants, all with similar stuff. There were no residential areas or side streets like Kyoto had.

An interesting part of this walk was the arcade we saw on the side of the street. Walking in, it seemed to be full of crane machine games, which I'm not very good at. At the back of the room was a forest of photo machines which we tried out for fun. Apparently you can customize the photos and add lots of decorations to each picture, but we were unable to read most of what we could do, ending up with some pretty boring pics of the two of use acting dumb.

As we left that area, we noticed an escalator up to a second floor. Cool! Up we go. At first it looks like standard arcade fare, with tokens and games, but it is soon revealed there are no prizes. Also, playing games with tokens just lets you win more tokens. What gives? Bobbie stays on this level to play a horse racing game while I explore more.

Turns out there are two more levels. Level three is pachinko machines, though they are not packed with people as I've seen them. The third level is fighting games only, which is boring to me so I went back downstairs pretty quick.

After playing a seizure inducing round of pachinko, I head back down to see how Bobbie is doing. She hasn't yet been able to get a seat at the racing game. In fact, most of the seats are packed and there are few games we can play. And we are the only foreigners on any of the floors. Suddenly I am very uncomfortable and insist that we leave. As we go, we see a man with a bucket of tokens dump them into some sort of machine that has a fingerprint reader attached to it and I start to understand what is going on. No prizes? Fingerprint readers? No foreigners at all? I smell illegal activity. And as exciting as it is to be seeing a side of Japan that is hidden from the tourists, I am not interested in stepping on anyones toes with my huge American feet.

The rest of the day was uneventful until we met up with a Japanese friend from UMASS who was great company and an informative guide. Heading home, the hotel was nice and it was cool to just hop into bed and not have to climb up some rickety ladder to sleep. But I missed Kyoto dearly, I missed the tiny houses built right up against each other, the secret alleys and paths that lead to god knows where. But most of all I missed the people. I missed waking up in the morning and watching the students walk to school. Strolling the roads at night to see old women sweeping up outside their doors. I missed the life. As silly as it sounds, I paid a thousand dollar plane ticket to watch a group of people go about their daily lives.

Performance Art

A lot of history today.

The Tokugawa era of Japan is one of the better known ones. Tokugawa Ieyasu took over after the current daimyo Hideyoshi's death, decimating resistance from the other warlords and uniting the country under his rule. It was he who closed off Japan from the rest of the world for two and a half centuries, a fanatical xenophobe who's family forever changed the history of Japan.

The Nijo Castle was built in Kyoto after he became shogun in 1603. Though it has a moat and high walls, it was less a fortress and more a testament to Tokugawa's power and influence. Lavishly decorated and sprawling, each room has huge doors/murals of landscapes. Gold leaf is in a lot of it, and even the ceiling is carefully painted with flower designs, different ones for different rooms.

We had to take our shoes off before we could enter the castle, and it was nice to walk around in just our socks. As we went, the floors chirped pleasantly. The sound was nice, but it had a serious application. Intruders were a unwelcome possibility, and the nightingale floors were a kind of alarm system since you cannot walk on them and not make a squeaking noise.

Another interesting part of the palace was the guards doors. It was important that the shogun was guarded at all times, but keeping the guards hidden was useful for surprise attacks. Dotted around the rooms were doors with red tassels, and these were closets where the guards would sit keep on the lookout.

Unfortunately, I have very few pictures of the palace. They said it was because the flash photography would damage the decorations (the light would fade them) but I think it was so you would have to buy the pictures in the souvenir shop :P

For me, this palace was extremely exciting. I could just imagine servants and attendants rushing around, of the ladies and lords sitting in meeting or going about their business. This was a piece of the Japan I had come for. Unfortunately I was several centuries too late.

After that, we headed to Gion Corner where we knew geisha were. Geisha are half the reason I flew 22 hours to get here. Their grace and elegance is unsurpassed by years of training. But how to find them? You can see them on the street during certain times of the day, but many people wait for them also, and the whole thing feels vaguely like we are paparazzi. Other than that, all their festivals and public dances take place in August or May or January. And a private party with a geisha means spending upwards of 1000$ if not more, not to mention they won't take just anybody, least of all foreigners. You have to be rich and connected to see a geisha. Since I was neither, I called up Kyoto Tourist Information.

Me: “I would like to see some geisha, do you know where I can find some? I'm in Ponto-cho (a prefecture in Gion district where geisha often work).

Them: “Well...you can't just go into their houses or anything.”

Me: (awkward pause)...No, I mean, I would like to see them doing their traditional dance or instrument playing or something.

I wondered what the heck this person thought, that I would just wander into someone's house like an idiot. I guess the information must get a lot of stupid tourists?

Anyway, I was directed to a theatre in Gion and we found it without much work. A note about Gion; it is quite beautiful and worth seeing even if you aren't going to any shows. It's packed to the gills with little restaurants, most of them traditional. We found a couple holes in the walls while we were there and generally found the people to be tolerant and accepting of us, not to mention extremely pleasant.

The show was amazing. It's was basically a compilation of several forms of Japanese theatre and art. Within an hour, we saw Japanese tea ceremony, ikebana (traditional flower arrangement), koto playing, kabuki, comedy play, traditional dance, and bunraku (puppet theatre).

The traditional dance was performed by a maiko, or junior geisha. I'm no expert on traditional Japanese dance, but I thought it was beautiful. Every move was practised until it was second nature, controlled to the point of perfection, not a hair or fold was out of place. I know this was a performance that was mostly for foreigners, but it didn't matter. This was as close as I was every probably going to get and that was good enough for me.

Watching all the artistic performances together was an eye opening experience in that it showed me what I believe is the heart of Japanese culture. With every act, the performer was in complete control of what s/he was doing, even when it came to the comedy. There was a set number of steps to what they did, and while to an outsider this may seem “unoriginal” or “stiff” to me it showed what was important to them. Life is itself chaos, and you never know what is coming next, no matter how much you plan. Perhaps to them this was a way of dealing with that, by putting as much stability in their lives as possible. Look at their gardens, every stone and leaf in place. Look at their face, a mask of neutral expression. They control what they can because who knows what may happen tomorrow.

Missing Something

Max showed us to a kind of fast food restaurant today, called Nakau. I'm not much into fast food, but we want to try everything so we went in (it didn't look that bad anyway). Inside was a counter like a Western fast food place, but there was also a machine with buttons and pictures of foods. We put money inside and pressed the button for the kind of food we wanted and on the other side of the counter a electronic message chirped to the attendant in Japanese that our order had been placed. In a few moments, delicious katsu-don was served to me and my friends, and it was absolutely great, with freshly cooked egg covered in soy sauce, fried chicken and rice.

I don't know if it's because I'm always excited or if the food here is just so different, but I have had little appetite and when I do eat, my stomach is always a little unhappy afterwards. I mostly get through this by immediately walking (because Kyoto is very much a walk-it city) to my next destination, which settles my stomach quickly. I am beginning to think that the food here is very rich because I need only consume a little of it to feel very full. It helps that I'm too frenzied or exhausted to eat most of the time, it's like I've turned off that part of my brain that wants food. Only until my stomach is growling loudly do I give in and get something to eat.

Afterwards was gift buying time, so I'm not going to say much about what we did, except that it was really fun finding everyone something they would like (or at least be entertained by)!

We ended up walking through a bunch of downtown Kyoto trying to find this soba place that Max said was really good. It turned out to be quite good (the soup part was practically pork gravy) and it was a really cute place with their advertisements for their one and only dish tiled across every wall, plus a commercial playing for the shop on a small tv nearby, constantly.

From there it was to the Heian Shrine for us. This is a shrine that was built in 1895 in honor the 1100 anniversary of Kyoto. It is a replica of the Imperial Palace (at one third size) of that era. On the way there we passed through a vegetarian festival (I know, this was confusing for me too, since most japanese are not vegetarian. Besides, PETA was there and that just made me mad). The best part of that was the praying mantis we found on the roof of one the the displays. He was swaying back and forth (“like he is drunk” Max said). I ended up picking him up and he scampered all over me. I wished I could have taken him home, he was the friendliest mantis, but I'm pretty sure customs would not allow it :P

Once we got to the shrine, I took a high resolution pic with my camcorder.

The shrine was beautiful, and I paid to get into the legendary gardens. Bobbie and Max stayed outside to sit and relax, and I found myself alone in the sprawling trails. The place was filled with wisteria, ponds (including catfish), and stone lanterns. Occasionally I would come upon some building or structure, usually a bridge or some stones that you had to cross to get to the other side. The gardens were meant as a place to relax and self reflect, and I fell into the process almost without realizing.

I realized I was becoming increasingly concerned about my complete lack of a connection to this country now that I was here. I still feel like I'm not actually “here” yet, that there is something crucial missing that if I find it I will click into the Japan I dreamed of for so long. It's kind of like when you go to get new glasses, and they try different magnifications. Right now everything is blurry, and I can almost see what I want, but I need to switch to a better lens. But how can I do that in a week? As a gaijin, I am completely cut off from these people, and it would take years for them to accept me into their world, if ever. And I have to wonder if the Japan I know even exists, or perhaps did (as I am fond of the older histories) and is now gone forever. I just don't know and the thought depresses me, but as the Japanese say I will try to “ganbatte ne!” or “try my best” to find what I'm looking for. It's too early to give up now.

At the end of our trip, we took the metro (subway) back. It's a very confusing system, and they seem to switch colors for tracks with wild abandon. We think we will be able to figure it out when we go to Nara tomorrow, but I miss Max. He had to leave to go back to school Sunday night and without him we feel rather lost and stupid. Neither of us have the energy to make a new friend so we will have to use our wits and charm to figure out what we want and how to get there. Speaking of getting there, my hands are permanently swollen from all the walking/salt. They practically breath salt here and we walk everywhere because the bus system can only get us to certain places. While I would love to spend an indefinite amount of time here, it will be nice to be home eventually. I miss my boyfriend and family and, you know, literacy.

The Darkest Walk

The train on our way to Kyoto was some of the best and most comfortable urban transportation I've ever been on, really putting the commuter rail in Boston to shame. It had a vending machine inside the train, and bathrooms even though the trip is at most 2 hours.

Here's a video of us exiting the station. Look out anime characters!




We booked it to our hostel which was a cool part of the trip because we passed some very residential areas with that lived-in touch. Once situated at the hostel (with free wi-fi!), we met up with another guest, a Chinese guy named "Max" (his English name) who is in town for a couple days for school. Max has been a godsend with helping us get around and understand the area. He helped us find a restaurant to eat lunch at.

The restaurant was way cool (I don't even know the name though). It was traditional style, so we went in and they gave us a table that was a booth in a room all by itself. The waitress knelt before us when she took our order (I felt bad for her knees). The miso soup was so good and fresh, and the sashimi was delectable. I was really impressed by the quality and it wasn't even expensive.

We headed out to the Kiyomizu temple, but on our way there were geisha walking down the street! We were in a part of Gion so I wasn't surprised, but I thought I was going to hyperventalate with joy. Floating past us, they were gorgeous and sublime.

The temple itself was massive. There were tons of places to put prayers and charms. We bought a few and put them up, then prayed at the alter by throwing in coins and hitting the gong. We also washed our hands with the sacred water. Walking around, there were lots of places to buy fortuens and scrolls with Ametarasu. We picked up some omamori (good luck charm) for safe travel. Here are a bunch of vids of that part of the trip.

The highlight of the temple trip was the Tainai-meguri. None of us, even Max knew what we were getting into when we paid 100 yen to enter the basement of the temple. The monks took our money and our shoes and told us in broken english to "left hand hold." I thought they just wanted us to be careful on the stairs and hold the banister. Bobbie went down first, but stopped at the bottom. "Uhhh, Amanda?" She asked, staring into the pitch blackness beyond. The banister turned into oversized buddhist beads and suddenly they were the only thing tethering us to the world. Max grabbed the back of my shirt in a kind of panic and we shuffled forward awkwardly, calling to Bobbie who was ahead. After a minute, she stopped.

"Amanda, it's really close to me."
"What is?"
"Some....thing. In the middle of the room."

The "thing" was the womb of the temple, of the Bodhisattva Daizuigu Bosatsu. It was a stone mound with a sacred symbol on top. Supposedly we were meant to turn the stone and make a wish, but honestly the dark and strangeness of it all had us hurrying past as quickly as possible. We fled up the stairs. Our exit was probably supposed to represent birth, but for us it was escape. Maybe that's how all babies feel.

We also found a machine that makes noise when you put a can inside it! Vids to come

On our way back we bought a few things for the peeps back home. I'm looking forward to giving them all to you!

The most interesting thing is that I feel like it still hasn't sunk in that I'm in Japan. I think it's because this county has been such a fairytale dream for me for so long that it's difficult to wrap my head around the concept of actually being here. I do know that being in the minority is kinda weird, and when suddenly it's you who is the foreigner even weirder. I'm just glad I have several days to stay, otherwise I would convince myself I made it all up.

Tonight is dinner and pachinko. Apparently there is a parlor on every block just about. I'll keep you posted.

P.S. yes by now I've tried the japanese squat toilets. They're no big deal.

What a Long Strange Trip It's Been

I don't exactly know how to start this post. Yes, I'm in Japan. Is it great? Indeed. But I must temper my joy with some sad news.

Bobbie, my travelling companion and compatriot, got a call from her mother while we were at Logan that her grandmother was having chest pains and was en route to the hospital. While she was not at peak health, she certainly didn't appear to be declining and so when we got to Minneapolis neither of us expected to hear that she had passed on shortly after that call.

On such an exciting and happy departure, it was surreal to suddenly know that a person you had seen two days prior was no longer among us. I queried with the airline what would happen if we had to suddenly cancel, and the replies were not good (basically, we would lose our tickets and reservations, no refunds). I discussed with Bobbie that the next course of action was completely up to her and I would stand behind whatever she wanted. Bobbie replied that Grammie would not want us to be wasteful and not to stop having a good time on her account. We decided that the best way to honor Grammie's memory would be to continue on, but now the focus of the trip has changed. Our journey here has become a pillgrimage and our itinerary will be including many more temples and shrines for us to give prayer and offerings to Grammie's spirit.

We ended up staying in a hotel in Osaka for the night, we were so exhausted. Here is a video of my room.




The other highlight of the hotel was the 24 hour convienience store inside the hotel where we picked up all manner of goodies. We finally passed out around 2 am.

My japanese immersion is progressing nicely and much faster than I thought it would. I'm learning.

More to come!